Life of Loneliness
by xSeshatx
Summary: {Oneshot} (Trigger Warning) Sometimes, the temptation to take his web-shooters off and fall from the sky was almost too much to refuse.


Some nights, patroling New York City wasn't high on Peter's list of things-to-do. He knew he should protect the city, knew he should save as many people as he could, so he did. He would go out, stopping all the crime he saw taking place and talking as much crap as he could because that's who he was. But in between fighting, he would sit on the tallest building around him and just stare out at the world, wondering what he did to deserve the life he had been handed.

Being Spider-Man should have been the best thing to ever happen to him, but it wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. Who didn't dream about being a superhero at least once in their lives? Peter definitely had, more than a few times. Now that he was a superhero, though, he couldn't help but wish things had turned out differently. Sleeping only a few hours a night if he was lucky, taking endless amounts of damage that would heal but the ache would remain, and stressing himself out to the point of depression wasn't how he wanted to spend his teenage years.

Speaking of depression, he was getting bad to the point of no return. The thought of living the rest of his life as Spider-Man was more painful than the thought of dying in a battle, or out of a battle. He'd often have to psyche himself up to get out of bed, go on patrol, or go to school. The motivation just wasn't there anymore and it was clouding his judgement. He found himself taking even more un-called for risks such as waiting until the last possible second to shoot out a web to keep him from slamming into the ground or using his body as a shield as opposed to using his webs. These risks were resulting in even more injuries which led to even more depression. It was an endless cycle.

Some nights he would stand on the edge of a building with his web-shooters sitting somewhere behind him. He would imagine how it would feel to rush through the air one last time before the inevitable splat. The adrenaline that ran through his veins during each drop was exhilarating. He would picture himself during those last few moments before impact. Would he regret his decision? Would he smile? Would he finally be at peace again, like he was before his parents left him all those years ago, or before his Uncle Ben was killed, or before he was Spider-Man? Honestly, he could deal with his parents and he could deal with Uncle Ben, but adding Spider-Man to both of those sufferings? No thanks. No can do.

Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly miserable, he would inflict injuries to himself and watch his super healing fix him right back up. He'd often take a knife or razorblade to his body and watch. It'd sting at first and the blood would rush out of his veins at an alarming rate. Minutes later, the cuts would already be closing up and scarring. The longest a cut remained on his skin was two hours before it was only a scar to look at in the future. He did it out of curiosity, at first. He wanted to test his healing abilities and was willing to take the pain to study himself. A few months later, he was doing it nearly every night as a coping mechanism. It was a nice reminder that he still was part human and wasn't fully Spider-Man. That was enough to calm him some nights. Other nights, it wasn't.

He had nobody to talk to about his ordeals. Sure, he could call Happy or Tony Stark, but they already thought he was incapable of protecting himself, and he really couldn't think of facing Tony after he declined the offer to join the Avengers. He let his personal feelings towards being Spider-Man affect his decision. He knew he should have said yes and he regretted saying no as soon as he got home, but he couldn't call up Tony and say nevermind. He had seen Tony a few times since then, usually when Tony would come to his aide in a particularly rough battle. That made him feel even worse, knowing he still needed help.

Peter had no other friends except for his 'man in a chair' who was more interested in Spider-Man than he was interested in Peter Parker. He had been able to convince his Aunt May that he was simply a fan of Spider-Man and was wearing his suit for that reason. He sounded like a terrible fanboy, bringing Ned into the situation and claiming the two idolized Spider-Man. It was horribly uncomfortable, but it worked. He didn't have his Aunt May to talk to, his best friend, or his mentors. Being just boring Peter Parker was lonely, even more so when he had the Spider-Man secret.

Loneliness would get the best of him more often than not. Being a superhero was lonely. Spending hours of his night alone on buildings and looking for trouble was lonely. He couldn't handle loneliness too well even though he was alone for most of his life. It was something he never grew used to and would instead brood over it. The loneliness was what was killing him the most. It hurt more than anything else but it was the one thing he knew he would never rid himself of. Life just stunk.

Peter took up talking to himself. He wasn't having full-blown conversations with himself; he wasn't that level of crazy yet. It was just easier to talk himself through whatever he was thinking or feeling rather than do it mentally. Sometimes, there were too many things happening all at once: too much noise, too many things to see. His senses would go into overdrive which made thinking incredibly difficult. So he'd talk to himself, work his way around a problem. He'd give himself the reassurance he needed to make it through - the kind of reassurance a friend would give if they were standing on the edge. "You're Spider-Man," he would often remind himself. Spider-Man was a hero who'd risk his life to save anybody and do a damn good job at doing so. He could catch the bad guys when the police failed. He would smile and laugh while doing so. Being Spider-Man sucked, but if he wasn't then he would totally look up to the guy who was.

It was worse during the weekends. He had less time to think about homework and school and had more time to think about how terrible he was at his job that wasn't a job. Weekend nights were miserable and, really, why wasn't there more crime at three a.m. on a Saturday night? At least the act of fighting would distract him from whatever he was feeling. It was hard to hate himself while in a battle. It was hard to think about anything other than the fight.

All it took was one failed battle to break Peter. He hadn't been able to save the man in time. He had been jumped and mugged, but the poor guy put up a fight and ended up with a bullet right in the chest. Peter wasn't moving at a good pace and he wasn't as reliable as he normally was and that man paid the price. He paid the price of sleepless nights and an emotional instability. Spider-Man had never let a mugging happen, let alone a murder. Seeing the man die only feet away from where Peter landed, dumbfounded, brought out the worst in him. He held nothing back as he fought the killers and he knocked two out of three of them out while the third probably had more than a few broken bones. He left them stuck to walls with enough webbing to keep them there for at least a full day. Then he flew off, hoping to be gone before the tears started.

Landing unceremoniously on top of his usual hideaway area, Peter broke out in a panic attack. His breaths were coming in too quickly and his entire body trembled. Tearing his mask off of his face, he somehow ended up in the fetal position as he gripped his hair tight. He fought of the urge to scream and instead started punching the top of the roof as a way to control himself. He was crying too hard and breathing too fast but he couldn't stop himself. Pain filled his chest and he couldn't tell if that was because he just witnessed a man die or if it was because his body hated him for the amount of stress he was putting on it. The Tony Stark made suit felt tighter on him as it did whenever his spider-senses went into overdrive. This only sent him further into panic, feeling as if he was locked in a room somewhere instead of sitting on top of a building out in the open.

Without any warning, Peter became aware of another presence with him. He had been able to hear the blasting of the repulsers but it didn't seem like they were heading his way until there was suddenly a person landing beside him on the roof. "Peter?" the voice said, and he recognized it as Tony Stark. "Are you hurt? Hey, hey, breathe, okay? Peter?" Hands wrapped around his wrists, stopping him from pulling at his hair and hitting the ground. One hand held his two wrists while the other was resting on his back. "I'm gonna need some update here. Are you hurt?" It took Peter a moment to realize that a question had been asked and he shook his head in response. "You gotta take a deep breath. We can work through whatever happened, but you gotta breathe first. You're fine, Spider-Man."

Peter squirmed away from Tony and ended up laying on his back. That position made it even more difficult to pull air into his lungs, but he didn't want to move. His eyes were squeezed shut and his hands were covering his face, hiding the sobs escaping his throat that mixed with his gasping for breath. The two actions were contradicting and he felt on the edge of passing out. Tony noticed it, too. "Peter, you'll pass out. Get up. Sit." Hands pulled him up into a sitting position and held him there. "Breathe. Hold your breath." If he had been able to talk at that moment, he would have called the genius an idiot because he couldn't hold his breath if there was no breath to hold. "I know what you're thinking, kid, and I know what I'm talking about. Hold your breath, just for a few seconds."

It took all of Peter's concentration to listen to what Tony was telling him to do. His brain kept seeing the man fall dead to the floor, but Tony kept him grounded in the present. Anytime he would start to breathe faster, Tony's voice would cut in reminding him to take it slow. An unknown amount of time passed before he had been calm enough to breathe without the guidance of Tony. Once he was able to breathe normally, embarrassment set in. "Sorry, Mr. Stark," he whispered, wanting to avoid using too much air to speak. Air was too precious to waste on words just yet.

"Wanna tell me what that was about?" Tony asked, but Peter shook his head no stubbornly. "Okay. You don't have to right now. Take some time. I should probably explain to you how I knew you were here anyways, shouldn't I?" It was obvious that Tony was only going to tell him so Peter could have some time to gather himself before talking. "Your suit alerts me when you're in really bad shape. I got alerted to the high heart rate and all that other stuff I won't go into detail about. Thought you were hurt, possibly dying."

His embarrassment was at an all-time high after hearing that. "Sorry for worrying you over nothing."

"I didn't say this was nothing," Tony quickly rebutted. "That was serious. That was something I definitely should have been alerted over. What you just had was a panic attack. As far as I know, that's the first one you've had, at least while in the suit."

"It's happened before," Peter admitted, "but never like that."

There was nothing but silence between them for a little bit while both of them got their thoughts together. Tony had to calm his own racing heart after that experience. When he got the red flashing lights and siren with Peter's name popping up, he thought the kid got himself into some serious trouble and needed help. That's happened a few times before, but it never seemed to be Peter's fault. It wasn't like he went out searching for that kind of trouble. But when Tony saw how severe his readings were, he feared it was more than just some trouble. He couldn't help but picture a bleeding, dying Peter Parker. Seeing Peter in the midst of the worst panic attack Tony had ever seen had been a better alternative to what he was expecting but it was still terrifying and worrisome. What had scared the superhero that bad? He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

Peter, on his part, was thinking about how badly he wanted to throw himself off of the building at that moment in particular. He was horrible at handling embarrassment and guilt. Add that to the depression and hopeless feeling he had and, well, he probably shouldn't be left alone. While he was calmer on the outside, his inside was still going crazy. Who was that guy? Did he have any family waiting for him? Should he have done something more than just web the killers? He never hated himself more.

Silence never sat well with Tony Stark so, not knowing that Peter's senses needed more time to calm down, he began speaking again. "What happened, kid?" he asked, trying to keep his voice softer and quieter than normal so the boy would feel more comfortable talking to him. He wondered if he was normally scared of being Spider-Man and that's why he turned down the Avengers deal. The thought that he put him in that position made him feel guilty but he chose not to dwell on it until it was confirmed.

"Life just really sucks," Peter mumbled, running a hand down his face and trying to shake away the pain. "Sorry you had to see that."

"No more apologies," Tony said, shutting down apologetic Peter in an instant. He had apologized three times since he arrived and that wasn't okay. "I get it; you're sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for, and I'd forgive you anyways, so let's move on from that. What I'm more interested in is why you're dressed as Spider-Man and having a panic attack severe enough for me to arrive."

It took a lot of willpower for Peter not to cover his ears to drain the sound. He could hear car horns from probably miles away, he could hear doors slamming shut both from inside houses and outside houses, and he could hear the neverending buzz of insects among other things. There was too much input. Keeping his eyes closed did nothing to help. "Tonight was just a bad night," he finally admitted, albeit vaguely.

"I want more than that."

Angrily, Peter slammed his hand down on the floor below him. "I know you do, Mr. Stark," he snapped, unable to stop the teenager in him from coming out tonight of all nights. "Life stinks and I had a bad night and you already think I'm a kid and here I am reminding you of just that. It's just a bad night." The tears had started again sometime and he wiped them away angrily. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm sorry." When a child cries, it's normally for attention, but when a child can't stop crying, there's something wrong. He felt like a child more than ever, unable to stop his tears long enough to have a conversation with his mentor, Iron Man. He was just a kid.

"I know you didn't," Tony said, surprising Peter with the amount of empathy he had in his voice. "Happens to the best of us. Don't think any less of yourself because of it." He sighed, sounding tired and much less like Tony Stark than Peter would have liked. "I want you to come to the tower later. We need to talk and I can see tonight is not the night to do it. I'll stay if you want but it seems to me you want to be alone so I'm gonna go. Come to the tower around noon, okay? We'll have lunch and we can talk about this. I know you don't want to, but it's best to get it out. Trust me." Peter opened his eyes when he felt Tony pat him on his shoulder. There was too much going on to process everything, but he was able to process the look of sadness and regret on Tony's face. Tony regretted bringing Spider-Man into the Avengers business. That was going to set off another break down very, very soon so Tony needed to leave.

There was no goodbye said, only a reminder to be at the vacant tower at noon. Peter decided not to question the decision to arrive to an empty tower and instead focused on the important piece of information he gathered: Tony Stark - THE Tony Stark - regretted Spider-Man. Did he regret his self-made decision to mentor the teen? Did he regret bringing Spider-Man to fight alongside him? Make him a suit? Allow him to remain Spider-Man? What did Tony Stark regret that had to do with Peter being Spider-Man? Whatever it was, it was terrible for Peter and he was thrown into a world of sobbing once again. At least he was able to breathe.

Peter angrily threw his web shooter's into his backpack and stood up to pace. It was hard to battle with himself. Most of him wanted to die - at least 90%, but it was feeling more like 98%. But most of him also knew how stupid and selfish it would be to end his life when he was out there protecting people. Who else would protect them if he died? Nobody, that's who. The cops were useless, the Avengers had way more bigger battles to fight, and nobody would be as good at his job as Peter was. He was actually Spider-Man, part spider and part man. Maybe somebody could create a replica of his suit and and powers, but all that meant little if they didn't have the spider-senses, enhanced healing, and extraordinary reflexes. Without those biological powers, nobody could truly be Spider-Man. That was Peter Parker's job. But he didn't want it to be anymore.

The moment Peter made his decision, everything went quiet. He heard nothing except for his own breath and heartbeat. He saw everything as they were without the extra details he could spot as Spider-Man. He wasn't hyper-aware of the suit clinging to his body. Peter didn't know if this was because of his decision or something else, but it was welcomed for his last few moments. He walked up to the edge of the building, peering over the side of his with no fear in his system. Shouldn't he be scared of what he was about to do? He couldn't find it in himself to try to force the fear that should be there until the end. Instead, he slipped on his mask and moved forward so the front of his feet were hanging over the side. All that was keeping him up were his heels and amazing balance. All he had to do now was push himself forward and the pain and suffering would be no more.

Free-falling was always his favorite thing about being Spider-Man. Aside from saving people's lives, at least. He loved the adrenaline than ran through his veins as his body got closer and closer to the ground. Now, in these last few moments, Peter allowed himself to feel free. Free of the pain of being an orphan. Free of knowing he caused his uncle's death. Free of the aches, the sleepless nights, and the depression. Free of the fear. Free of the responsibilities that came with being Spider-Man. He allowed himself to feel free of everything before everything came to an end.

The end never happened. His eyes were closed, waiting for the moment of impact, and then he had been caught and carried away before his spider-senses were able to catch up. Opening his eyes and gasping in panic, he saw none other than Iron Man who most definitely didn't want to leave Peter alone despite his earlier decision to leave him alone. All too soon, the feeling of being free left Peter because now he was anything but free. Tony, who hadn't said a word, went to the top of the building, grabbed Peter's backpack, and flew the two of them off. Where, Peter didn't know.

Turns out he flew him to the new Avengers place upstate. Tony set Peter down before stepping out of his suit and walking away. He obviously expected Peter to follow, so that's what he did. Peter followed behind an uncharacteristically quiet Tony Stark, making sure to stay back a few feet. He followed him all the way to a bedroom and Tony shut the door behind him. "Sit," he commanded, pointing to the bed, and Peter complied. "I was hoping I was worried for nothing. I was wrong."

"I'm sorry," Peter said quietly, reaching up to remove his mask before deciding against it. That would make him too exposed in this particular situation.

"You don't apologize," Tony said, voice giving away the fact that he held himself back from yelling. "I don't want an apology for this. You don't need to apologize for this. What I want is an explanation. Don't wanna give me the full backstory as to why you decided to jump off a building - literally - then fine. Just tell me what happened tonight to cement this decision."

Since Peter had already been caught in the act, it seemed pointless to evade the questions. "I was too late," he said, his voice just above a whisper. "I heard the scream, and I got there too late. I could have saved him, but I reacted too slow."

Tony's erratic pacing stopped and he stared at the younger man. "You saw someone die tonight?" he asked, not fully understanding. People died all the time. Even Tony couldn't save everybody.

"I never saw anyone die before tonight, aside from uncle Ben," he admitted. "I always got there to at least save someone from dying. I've been late to some things, but never a murder. And it's my fault." Tony still looked at him disbelieving. "Being Spider-Man is terrifying. What do I have if I don't have the ability to save people? That's all I want to accomplish, and now I'm failing at even keeping them alive." He sniffed, trying to keep back his tears this time. "It's not fair."

"Is that why you turned down my offer to become an official Avenger?" Tony asked, taking a seat beside Peter.

"I regret saying no. I said no because I let my own fears and insecurities get the best of me. I'm nothing compared to you guys. I know that. I'm just a kid and I'm so scared. You don't need that on your team. I wish I was more than that. I would have really liked saying yes. You can't have someone on the Avengers who is terrified, especially the way I was after that battle in Germany. Plus, one hit and I was down."

"I wouldn't have offered you a spot if I didn't think you were capable. I was hesitant at first. This is partly my fault. I knew you were scared, but I was blinded. Seeing you scared of me when I brought you in to fight Captain America, well, I was worried. You're great in combat, you're handling everything a fifteen year old shouldn't handle, and you want to protect anybody you can. Because of all that, I forgot you were a kid until that moment you were scared of me. So scared that you went to the defense without using your spider powers," Tony explained. "I don't think any less of you because you are a kid. I'm worried about you, is all. Anything could happen to the most experienced of fighters. You're just a kid who probably didn't ask for any of this. You were so scared after taking down Ant-Man - Giant-Man? - that I wanted you to stick to small crimes, but I can't deny how much of an asset you would be to the Avengers. I guess that's why I offered you the spot in the first place."

"I don't like being viewed as a child," Peter said weakly, knowing that Tony understood that was part of the problem but felt the need to say it anyways.

"I know, kid," Tony sighed. "I can't help it. You attract a lot of negative attention. I don't want anymore supervillains to come after you, even though I know you can handle it. I have a lot of conflicting emotions about you and what I want you to do. Nobody wants to see you hurt, not even any of those guys you fought against before. I heard about your battle with Barnes and Falcon. Barnes hesitated before attacking you. You were fighting him and he hesitated to fight back. Do you know why?" Silently, Peter shook his head. "He heard your voice. He knew you were a kid. I think everybody that knows you're young was shocked, one because that battle was not a place a kid should have been at, and two because you were so good. You fought brilliantly and came up with ideas on the fly to take everybody out. Two on one, Falcon and Barnes. That'd be one hell of a battle for everybody, but you kicked ass. You proved you belonged out there, even if you're as young as you are." Sighing again, Tony stood back up. "I don't know why I'm telling you any of this. I'm sure it's the last thing you need to hear, me telling you how I can't help but view you as a kid. We need to talk about what happened tonight. That was not a decision you make because of one mistake."

"I'm just tired," Peter said, trying to drop the whole attempted suicide conversation for good. "I haven't been sleeping. Nightmares, you know? And I'm too busy for sleep. I'm sure you know sleep deprivation, how it messes you up. I just need a good night of sleep and I'll be fine."

"I know that's not all. That was a panic attack. Sure, it could have been worsened because of the sleep deprivation, but you don't just get panic attacks because you're tired," Tony said, calling Peter out on his little excuses.

Taking the mask off with a sigh of his own, Peter laid back on the bed with the crook of his elbow covering his eyes. "Guess I'm just depressed," he said bluntly. "I'll get back on my feet. I always do."

"Why don't you just hang up the suit and go back to being a teenager?" Tony asked, curious.

"I need to help people. I'll hate myself more if I was knowingly letting people get hurt just cause I don't wanna be Spider-Man. But that's also the thing: I do want to be. I don't know. It's just confusing. Typical teenage stuff, I guess, right?"

"Most teenagers don't jump off of buildings," Tony said dryly. "Look, with or without Spider-Man and with or without the Avengers, you're a great kid. You're smart, compassionate, and brave. You don't need the suit to be amazing. Nobody expects anything out of you, Spider-Man. Give up the job, join the Avengers, continue how you have been, it doesn't matter. You will be doing great things no matter what. But this? Jumping off of buildings, suffering alone in the middle of the night? That's not cool. You're more than that. Your life is worth so much, as Peter, Spider-Man, both."

Peter hesitated. Hearing Tony speak like that was almost enough to bring him to near-tears again. He was honestly trying to convince him to stick around and was trying to reassure him that both Peter and Spider-Man were great respectively. That was something he needed to hear, if only he wasn't confused on what he wanted to do. "Can you help me with something?" he asked, speaking slowly. If he was going to stay around, he wanted to do whatever he can to prevent another panic attack like the one he had that night. One of the biggest anxiety triggers for him were his senses in overdrive.

"Anything."

"I don't know if there's anything you can do, and I know you're busy. I'm smart, but I can't figure this out on my own," he said, hesitant on what he was about to ask. "You know how I told you ever since this Spider-Man thing happened, my senses are dialed to eleven? When I get worked up, everything gets dialed up to twenty. During a fight or when I have a nightmare or anything. There's too much input and I can't keep up with it and then I... I freak out, I guess. I was wondering if there was anyway to help me tone it down a bit. The suit is great. It's more than great, actually. But is there anyway you can, I don't know, add something to help with that?"

"That's simple," Tony said and Peter breathed a sigh of relief. "I can add a sensory overdrive mode where everything in the suit is automatically dialed down. I can have that done for you in an instant."

"I appreciate it," he said sincerely. "Dealing with that sucks."

"What does that have to do with tonight?"

"It's hard to really think when there's so much input," he admitted. "I can't think properly and that just makes me panic even more and just...yeah."

Peter felt the mattress dip and he lifted his arm to see Tony sitting beside him, looking worse than he ever saw Tony Stark look. The look didn't suit him very well. "Listen, kid," he said, "you come to me if you have any issues. I don't care what the issue is and I don't care when. If things get too...loud for you, you come straight to me. I can send directions to your suit on how you can get here. Sorry for moving so far away from you, by the way. I'll have a room set up today for you. A sensory-free room. That should give you enough quiet to calm yourself. I mean it. You come straight here."

"I will," Peter promised, and he meant it. Together, him and Tony were solving his problems, but that didn't take away the depression. It was better than nothing, but his heart hurt.

Tony rested his hand on top of Peter's head, a rare form of affection that Peter knew he'd never see again, before asking, "Are you still Spider-Man?"

"I can't not be Spider-Man, you know? So yeah, I'm Spider-Man. I'll be a better Spider-Man than before. Always bounce back stronger, right?"

"Right. Do you want me to ask you if you want to be an official member of the Avengers again? Cause I can ask if you want me to."

"Yeah," Peter answered, trying not to sound excited. If he could be an Avenger, maybe he could have more training on how to be Spider-Man. Maybe he could learn how to manage his emotions better, or his spider-senses, or his depression. Things weren't going great as vigilante Spider-Man. Maybe Avengers Spider-Man would be better.

"Do you want to be an Avenger?"

"If it isn't too late to say yes."

"Of course not," Tony said excitedly. "The offer was always there even if you said no the first time."

Peter couldn't help but smile. "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"I shouldn't even let you on the Avengers after tonight, but I trust you not to do something so stupid," he said, causing Peter's smile to fall. "Look, I know how you feel. Most people do. Of course, there's the extra Spider-Man stuff that only a few people understand, but people get it. Mostly everybody has been there. Not everybody reaches the same exact point you have and live to tell the tale, but I know how you felt and feel. But I also know the affects of sleep deprivation, nightmares, and the feeling of carrying the world on your shoulders. The rest of the Avengers - we can help you. So, I'm gonna let you continue to be Spider-Man. I'm gonna let you keep the suit. I won't take that again and make you go back to that hideous onesie you used to wear. But - what'd you name her? Karen? - will let me know whenever you're acting idiotic again. Then the suit is mine and Aunt May will be informed. Hate to do this to you, kid, but you know."

"Yeah," he whispered, "I know."

Tony removed his hand and stood back up. Peter wasn't surprised - Tony was always moving, so him standing and sitting so often was normal on a good night. With how Tony's nerves must have been at that moment it made even more sense. Peter couldn't sit still much either. "Have I mentioned you're staying here for the night? Cause you are. Already had a message sent to your aunt, saying how I called you out late and didn't really give you much choice. Can't say she's gonna be too happy when she wakes up to that message, but that's a mostly you problem."

"Here? Like, right here?"

"Of course here. Where else?" Tony asked, smirking. He knew Peter's inner fanboy still went crazy on occasion and that sleeping in the Avengers official building probably highlighted the inner fanboy.

Peter used more energy than what should have been required to sit back up. "Mr. Stark, I'm really sorry for how tonight played out. I'm sorry I acted stupid, I'm sorry you had to witness all that, and I'm sorry you had to bring me back here to babysit. I know you don't want any apologies, but I needed you to know how sorry I am."

Tony gave him the softest look he probably ever would. "I know you are, kid, but you don't need to be. If you felt horrible enough to do what you tried to do, you lose anything to apologize for. Depression, it can...cloud your judgement sometimes. So you don't have to apologize. As long as you start coming to me, we'll be good. Alright? I'll be alerted if you don't sleep or have a nightmare or something tonight. If that's the case, I do have something I can give you to help you sleep. I don't want to give it to you because sleeping medicine is easily addictive and I don't even know how well it'll work on you, seeing as you're half spider and all that. But we'll work something out if it gets to that point, okay? If things get...bad again tonight, just say something and I'll be alerted. We'll work this out. You'll be fine. So get some rest, Spider-Man. Tomorrow is gonna be a long day."

Nervousness creeped up inside Peter. "Why is tomorrow gonna be a long day?"

"If you're gonna be an Avenger, we'll need to pull together a press conference," he answered with a grin. "Aside from that, I'll be fixing that suit of yours and you'll need to help me out a bit with it. That's gonna stink, I apologize in advance. Enough talking. Bedtime."

Now it was Peter's turn to smile. "Thanks, Mr. Stark."

"For the love of - call me Tony, will you?"


End file.
